Coping
by SailorStrut
Summary: Thane has passed away, leading Kolyat and Shepard to one strange encounter. Kolyat/Shepard without love or lust. You read that right.


A/N: This is an attempt at a realistic Kolyat/Shepard fic. No love, or even lust involved, but there is sex, no mistake there. I started to write the 'scene' and was going to bump this up to M, but I wasn't sure if people wanted it or not-if you want to read it, lemme know and I'll post it for you guys! 

Also, I took some liberties with drell biology. Since we aren't totally sure what 'oral contact' means, I took an idea and rolled with it! Hope you enjoy!

A clay pot, cracked and faded stood on the nightstand next to Kolyat Krios' bed. It was a testament of happier times, innocent days that had long since passed him by. A reminder of his mother, bloodied and broken, and his father, telling him not to cry.

Usually this pot was ignored, a simple piece of decoration. But when things were troubling, when the past came back, the pot was picked up, studied. Fused fingers traced the crack down the middle, and a soft smile appeared at the memory of the vibrant blues and greens that had once coated it. It was easy to get lost in solipsism, to forget the reason he was troubled in the first place.

His father had passed away, leaving his only son to plan his funeral. The reports were that he had gone easily, without any pain, but it didn't stop the tears from forming. Their relationship had been rocky—Kolyat fully accepted that he never did understand his father, or truly forgive him. But he didn't have to do either to love him.

It was his father that had gotten him into this situation, the memory still lingering. Placing the pot gently on the nightstand, he rolled over gently and studied his bedmate's sleeping form. Soft, smooth skin, that odd fur that was made up of so many individualized strands—while she could tear him to pieces awake, she seemed harmless asleep.

Gently lifting himself out of bed, he surveyed the room before him. No broken glass, clothes in a neat pile; it wasn't nearly as dramatic as stories made it out to be. It only took him a couple of moments to locate her underthings, reminding himself that humans were heavier sleepers than drell by nature. After heavy drinking, it was near impossible for a soft-touched drell to wake them. The first part was simple—the odd contraption that covered her breasts was more difficult, but he slipped it back on without waking her. When she did eventually rise, she would be under the impression that she had simply been allowed into his bed and slept, nothing more. Knowing the truth would do neither of them any good.

It had started off as a simple night. He was to meet Commander Shepard at the Dark Star to go over funeral plans for his father. While she loved him deeply, she wasn't drell, and so the planning fell to Kolyat. It was easy enough at first; they sat down at a table in the back, ordered a drink, and he proceeded to explain the complex funeral rites and what she would be expected to do as his lover.

Things had gone quite well until the drinks arrived. He should have known the moment she drained her glass and ordered another that it would end this way. His lack of knowledge was his downfall—he knew humans viewed death negatively, and drinking was a common way to ease the pain. Shepard was a grown woman, she could handle herself.

And yet two hours later he was in one bad situation. Shepard was drunk—it was achingly clear from the slurred way she raved about his father to the small sway she had adapted. He wasn't exactly sober himself—she had kept a steady flow of drinks for the both of them, and Kolyat allowed himself to have a few too many. Unlike her, however, he was capable of coherent thought, and was well aware that bringing her back to the Normandy was a terrible idea. For starters, he didn't know where it was—stumbling through the Citadel with Shepard was not high on his to-do list. Not to mention the people they could run into on the way back. If any reporter saw the famed commander, it could go downhill, and quickly. Really, there was only one option available—his apartment. It was nearby, safe, and he could keep an eye on her, ensuring that she didn't die of alcohol poisoning through the night.

He gently told Shepard they were leaving and helped her out of the bar, curious about the woman's silence. For the last hour she had talked non-stop about Thane—while some of the details were a bit iintimate/i for Kolyat's liking, others opened up a side of his father that he didn't know existed. How he'd tried to learn Spanish for her after she mentioned he looked like a snake found in Mexico. How he'd laughed after she informed him she didn't know a single word of Spanish. How he'd confessed his sins, prayed for redemption, and cried in her arms. It reminded him that his father wasn't a fabled hero from legend—he was a person, capable of faults and conflicting emotions. And yet she had fallen silent a few minutes ago and didn't speak a word on the way back to the apartment, though she did lean heavily on him, her head nearly in the crook of his neck. Kolyat simply thought she was tired—he'd later realize how wrong he'd been.

Once he stepped into the apartment, he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, gently helping Shepard to sit down on the couch. He would move her to his bed when he'd hung up his jacket and gotten a blanket out of the closet; there were none near the couch he'd be sleeping on tonight. Grabbing a hangar, he paused as he felt two small arms snake around his waist, a voice at his ear.

"Thane."

Not sure what was going on, Kolyat turned around, Shepard's soft lips quickly capturing his.

This was not right. He was probably in therapy somewhere, reliving a repressed memory of seeing Shepard and his father together. Her tongue slowly sliding across his lower lip brought him out of that thought. No, this was happening.

Horror-stricken, he suddenly understood. She had already had too much to drink, lowering her inhibitions and leaving her judgment blurry. But she had been so close to him on the way home, her mouth close to his skin…

It was his scales. He knew humans could get high off the toxins produced from them, even hallucinate. And while Shepard had no idea, the secretions were hereditary, with a son's being quite similar to the father's. A kind of built-in cologne. She thought she had smelled Thane, putting him in her mind, and then the hallucinations began.

Even though he had figured it out, he didn't seem any closer to pushing her away. He knew he was in shock, but it was more than that. Shepard was a war hero, capable of keeping a whole batarian squad at bay. She'd saved the Citadel, returned from the Omega-4 Relay with no casualties. She could break him in two with her bare hands if she felt like it. Though he would never admit it out loud, or in any other circumstance, he was scared of her.

Deeper down, a more primal part of him objected. He wasn't attracted to Shepard—while he knew she was good looking for a human, he wasn't a xenophile. But it was clear she knew what she was doing, making him feel pleasure despite himself.

He started to panic freely when he felt her hand slip down into his pants. This needed to end, it was wrong, but igods/i did that feel incredible, and he was more than a little drunk himself, he wanted to give in to the pleasure, never have it stop…

"Call me isiha/i again."

And he was undone.

He couldn't remember the last time he had bought food for his apartment. Ordering in was easy on weekdays, and Celsus usually dragged him out after work on weekends. That left him with a couple pieces of dried fruit, and crackers that had gone stale weeks ago. Humans crackers, right? But it was a snack thing, instead of breakfast, but they did have bread in the morning-

His rambling thoughts were interrupted by a soft yawn. Whirling around, he saw Shepard in the doorway, dressed and smiling softly.

"Good morning, Kolyat. Sleep well?"

She wasn't angry, didn't seem suspicious, and his head was still firmly attached to his body. All good signs. "Pretty well. I'm guessing you did?"

"What, did the smile give it away?" A soft chuckle, and a shrug—a human gesture he had seem many aliens pick up. "I dreamed I was with Thane last night. I know how it sounds, but I was happy when I woke up; he's still with us, in a way." She shook her head a moment later, clearly thinking it sounded cheesy.

"Do you want coffee, or…?"

"I know you don't have coffee, but I know you have hot chocolate. I wouldn't mind some."

"How…?"

"Thane always drank it—he kept a mug of it on his desk. And every time I see Feron, he's got a cup of it. I know drell savor sweet things more than humans, and you're open to human stuff, so I guessed." She fell quiet before walking to the kitchen table, sitting in a chair and clasping her hands. "I want to apologize, and thank you. Getting drunk was a terrible idea, and I knew it, but I just couldn't stop. It was good of you to let me stay here, and you went out of your way to do so. I really appreciate it."

She was back in commander mode, business first and emotions bottled up. Before he could help himself, Kolyat blurted out, "Why did he call you siha?"

Surprise swept across her face. "How did you know he called me that? We always tried to keep things professional when you were around."

"You said it last night. I shouldn't have asked—"

"It's okay." Her face softened, as did her voice. "It just slipped out one day, as more of a title than anything. He thought I'd saved him in Nassana's tower. After we both admitted our feelings ran deeper than friendship, he started using it affectionately. It was a testament to how I woke him up…really, how we woke each other up."

Kolyat nodded slightly, not wanting to press the matter. Before he had a chance to speak, she piped up, looking up from her omni-tool.

"I really need to get going. Apparently Garrus is ready to send out a search-party for me." Sounding more amused than annoyed, she stood up, looking at Kolyat long and hard.

"We never really had the best relationship—we just never got the chance. But I want you to know that if you ever need anything, I'll be there."

It was her sincerity that touched him, and allowed him to truthfully answer, "I will." A moment later, he added, "Funeral robes come tomorrow, so you know."

No tears this time, no sense of depression. Just a snort. "Humans bury their dead as quickly as possible and get to drinking ithemselves/i to death. Drell take weeks to make everything perfect and beautiful. He was at peace when he died—he had accomplished what he wanted, and understood his fate. What if he changes his mind while we're gathering flowers and trying on shoes?"

He couldn't help but let out a small snicker at that, which seemed to please her. Raising a hand in farewell, she uttered a quick, "Thanks again," and left, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Taking both mugs of untouched hot chocolate, he sat down at the kitchen table, feeling pleased with the simple realizations he had come to.

He hadn't fallen in love with Shepard. Hell, he didn't even lust over her. But he did have a newfound sense of respect for the woman, and a sense that both she and his father weren't figureheads, but people, hurting just like everyone else. It was clear she loved his father more than he had thought possible. Her courage at voicing what everyone was thinking, her bold moves, the fierce loyalty she displayed—they were all why his father called her isiha/i, why he loved her.

She would wear red at Thane's funeral. As his lover, she was assigned that colour anyway, but Kolyat couldn't see her in anything else.

Red was fitting indeed. 


End file.
